It's not that I'm not thankful this morning. I'm just having a difficult time focusing and finding my way to a place of thankfulness.
I know I am blessed beyond all reason. I know that God loves me as His own child. I know that He will always care for me. I know that I have wonderful people in my life, brought by God, to help me see Him more clearly. BUT, I also know that the abuse I suffered frequently replays in my head, and I am overcome with sadness and regret that it happened. I am overcome with the realization that that little girl is me. Those things didn't happen to a random "someone". I would and do feel immense sympathy and compassion for all who suffer any form of abuse, and it is my deepest desire that the abuse cycle be broken.
Sometimes, though, I am simply overcome with my own story. I tend to keep it in the third person, referring to myself during those episodes as "she". It is too painful to own it thoroughly. I don't want any of the episodes to have occurred. I know they are part of who I am; I have learned lessons through them; I have grown exponentially because of the work I have done in processing those experiences. Some days, though, I'd rather not have learned those lessons and grown. Some days I just want a happy, shallow, mindless world to live in -- a Norman Rockwell painting -- where I am happy and trouble free, and so is everyone else.
But that is not real life. So I talk and I write. I pray and I read. And I reach for that contentment that Paul shares.
So for today I will strive to be content with borrowing Paul's thankfulness, until I find my own again.
